The Interview
by doctorHolmestuck
Summary: Followed on from "The Puzzle". This story follows the  mis adventures as Eleanor arrives in London and tries to get to her interview with Dr. John Watson on time.
1. Chapter 1

She stepped off the plane and into the shuttle that would take her to the Heathrow terminal. The first thing she noticed was the smell. It smelled so very different here than it does at home. It was colder, and she couldn't locate any little pieces of wattle or sunburnt dust sifting in the air.

She was feeling a little uneasy. She had been feeling this way from about ten minutes after Sherlock Holmes left her yesterday. Something wasn't right. She was torn between the knowledge that Sherlock Holmes had died and the fact that she had met him the day before. She knew he was dead. She's seen the footage. It was all over you-tube. When it was taken down from one account another three put it up. No-one wanted to forget about the fraud that had killed himself. But... Yesterday... It couldn't have been him, but it must have been, those quick, cat-like eyes of his, touching nothing and observing everything. Only Sherlock Holmes can look at someone the way he did...does?

She'd been thinking about it all throughout the plane trips.

Her interview with Dr. John Watson would be on in four hours. Should she tell him? If she tells him then anything Sherlock was planning to do would go up the creek without a paddle and if she was wrong... a random Sherlock Holmes look-alike was talking to her. It would get the poor bloke's hopes up. If she didn't tell him... he'd be living with all the pain that his friend was gone until he came back... if he came back. There were too many variables. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

Eleanor hauled her luggage off the belt and headed for the taxi rank. If she could find it.

After walking around in circles for about ten minutes a song from one of her favourite musicals came up on her iPod. As the singer talked about his sadistic tendencies leading to his career in dentistry two men began walking alongside her.

"You're going to try and rape me or something, are you?" she queried the air. She was trying not to make eye contact.

"You call out for help and no-one finds your body," the man on her left stated plainly.

"Perish the thought."

As the song on her iPod neared a close she quietly took a large breath. She took two quick, side-long glances to make sure the two men weren't watching her too closely.

"**FIRE!**" Eleanor screamed and bolted into the nearest group of people. She left go of her suitcase, no point in carrying around extra weight. Eleanor knew the men would be following her, but other people had seen them now. She ran through the crowd who were now stopping the two men who tried to take her away. A security guard strode up to her and asked her to come with him. Eleanor complied with him.

The security guard was leading her down some back corridors and towards an exit.

"You're not taking me in for questioning, are you?"

"No."

"I suppose you're going to take me to your leader then?"

"Pretty much," the security guard breathed as he opened the exit door for her.

A dark Mercedes was parked in the alleyway.

"Are you going to tie me up now or later?" she queried.

"We may as well do it now, save time if the boss man wants to see you the moment we arrive."

"Fair enough then," she said, simply. She held her wrists together behind her back and turned around so the guard could bind her. She casually tensed her muscles.

"May I ask, were you bribed or did you always work for your current boss?" Eleanor asked, keeping things casual.

"Oh I always worked for Moriarty. Nobody thinks that a guard would be the one working with the enemy, do they?"

"Good point."

"I do hope you don't try to tense your wrists and ankles as I bond them."

"I wouldn't dream of it." _Idiot, dreaming and doing are two different events. Heh, heh, heh._

He opened the backdoor for her. She sat down while he tied up her ankles.

"It's nothing personal, just so you know."

"What isn't?" She queried the guard and he finished the final knot.

"This. All of it. The kidnapping, the bondage, and the gag I haven't put on you yet. It's nothing personal, the boss just thinks you know something that we need to get out of the way. You understand?"

"Nah, it's cool. This isn't the first time I've been tied up and thrown in the back of a car."

He gave her a look that said _uh...what?_

"Not in a fetish sort of way, a legit 'we are kidnapping you' way," she supplied.

"Ah."

He stood up and dusted his knees off. Then he turned to the front of the car and opened the door. He pulled out a small, khaki box and opened the lid. He took out one of those gags that has one of those little rubber ball that fits into a person's mouth. He put the box away then turned back to Eleanor.

"Sorry about all of this," he said finally.

"Think nothing of it, sir," she replied just before he gagged her. She knew full well it's best to comply with the enemy while they think they have the upper hand. She knew she was going straight to the interrogation area and they got her out of that damned airport she spent nearly 15 minutes trying to find a way out of. That was certainly a bonus.

She lay in the back of the car. The security guard was about to shut the door when she started knocking on the back of the chair in front of her.

"What?"

She gestured towards the seatbelt.

"Oh," said the guard with no ounce of intelligence in his voice. He leaned in and did up the seatbelt for her. He shut the door. Eleanor snuggled into the back of the backseat of the car while the corrupt guard got behind the steering wheel and drove off.

Then she remembered that she had left her luggage in the airport. _F***_


	2. Chapter 2

She had been driven around in the back of the black Mercedes for about 30 minutes and, already, she was getting bored. The windows were heavily tinted, so she couldn't see any scenery. She wondered how long it would take for the guard to finish driving her to the interview.

She'd spent her time in the car feeling around her wrist tethers and had figured out how to untie them in less than 3 seconds. She'd untied and retied herself nearly a hundred times by now. She had also loosened her ankle binds enough that, if the situation arose, she could kick the off pretty quickly. Her iPod had still been playing music throughout the car trip, that's how she knew what the time was. Currently the song playing was another soundtrack, a reprise.

As the song drew to a close and one of her favourite songs started playing, the car drew to a halt. The corrupt guard exited the car and walked around the front. People were talking quietly. The voices stopped as a mild squeaking noise came forward and her car door opened. She was yanked out of the car and dumped in a wheelchair, strapped in, and wheeled inside a building.

It was like an office building, big and concrete, all artificial. She didn't like it. She was pushed along by a woman in suit. A good one, it looked expensive, probably one of those fancy Italian brands that management people wear to make themselves feel fancier. Eleanor couldn't see the woman's face, but she knew that the woman was probably young, a secretary or P.A. She was going to see the boss man.

The woman pushed her into an elevator then removed the panel above the number buttons and pushed a special button with "JM" written on it. The elevator glided upwards smoothly. Eleanor was slightly disappointed that there was no elevator music. She still had her iPod playing, so at least she had something to listen too.

All of the floor numbers cycled through the screen above the doors. After the last one was reached all the numbers began to flash and the letters "J" and "M" blinked onto the screen. The doors opened with a _whoomph _sound. The woman began to push her wheelchair forwards. Eleanor couldn't see it, but she could hear the elevator doors shut behind them. She knew she was going to have a slight problem if she needed to make a quick escape.

The woman reached down and removed Eleanor's gag.

"Be a dear and put my iPod on pause. It's been playing since I landed and I don't want to waste all the battery life," Eleanor asked casually.

The woman did nothing.

"Well, it's just I can't reach over and pause it myself, you see. So, would you?"

The woman reached into Eleanor's pocket and pulled out her iPod, unlocked it, and paused Eleanor's music. Then the woman puck the iPod back in its place.

"Thanks, I couldn't have done it without you."

The woman walked away.

"No goodbye or 'so long and thanks for all the fish' then?"

Another woman walked in. She was wearing a short, black pencil skirt with a frilly, open (very open) blouse and a tight fitting jacket that cut in under her breasts. Her high heels were monstrous. She practically walked on tip-toe. _Good grief, I'll never understand how women can walk in those._ Her face and hair were reminiscent of Scarlet Johansson from "the Avengers" trailers. She probably wasn't Scarlet Johansson.

"The boss will see you now," said the clone. She had a very heavy Lancaster accent.

She started to walk away.

"You do realise I can't get up and follow you, nor can I wheel myself over since I'm a bit tied up at the moment."

The clone clicked her fingers and another impeccably dressed woman began to push the wheelchair after the clone.

"I'm noticing a staffing trend here."

The room was enormous; it was almost like someone had just removed all the walls from the entire floor and turned it into one room. There were also a wide range of styles; baroque, mixed with neo-classical, mixed with modern, mixed with Buckingham Palace. Eleanor was starting to regret complying with the corrupt guard.

There was one chair in the centre of the room with its back to Eleanor. Someone was sitting in it. The clone announced Eleanor's arrival, bowed and walked away. The other girl un-clicked Eleanor from her chair and left.

There was a small silence.

"Nice place you've got here, very... mutli-style-ular..."

"What have you learned about Sherlock Holmes." It was a woman's voice, to high to be a male, but still fairly deep, almost familiar, but not quite, a voice like a memory, long since past.

"That depends on what you want to know. Do you want a physical profile, or a mental profile, a family history check or-"

The girl in the chair swooped up and leaned right into Eleanor's face.

"You know what I mean!"

"...Neve...?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Neve... You're still alive..."

"...Ellie? They told me that they had found the guy responsible for Jim's death and that we had the perfect lead to finding him. I didn't... I never thought... You..."

"How...?"

"It's a long story Ellie. A very long story."

Neve leant back against her chair slid to the ground. She was beginning to cry.

"Don't cry. Please don't."

Eleanor slipped off her bonds and reached forwards for her friend. Carefully, she slid her arms around Neve's shoulders and held her close.

"I missed you," the girls said quietly, in unison.

Eleanor told Neve all about her research...and her meeting.

Well... Nearly everything.

Obviously there were some things she kept secret.

She may not have seen her friend in six years, but she wasn't an idiot. She knew who Neve was working for. Eleanor wasn't about to sacrifice her hero just because her friend asked her to.

You can't trust people. She learned that from a young age.

Eleanor leaned over and hugged her friend one last time.

"Call me. Please."

"Of course Ellie. I would never forget."

"Bye..."

"Bye..."

Eleanor turned and began to walk out of the room.

"Ellie wait!"

Eleanor turned back to her friend. She cocked her head to the side.

"Your luggage and a car are waiting for you downstairs."

"Thanks."

"No problem...sis..."

'_How can we possibly trust each other?' _they both thought.

Once again, Eleanor turned and left the room.

Shortly afterwards the clone strolled in bearing a clipboard.

"Should she be terminated ma'am?"

"No. We can use her. The longer we keep her alive, the more information she will gather for us, right Daddy?"

"You are doing so well dear."

Jim Moriarty strode forwards.

"Good afternoon daddy. Did you enjoy your trip?"

"Yes dear. Those Syrians are so desperate I almost feel pity for them."

"Almost?"

"But not quite."

"That's my daddy."

Neve lifted herself out of the chair and hugged her adopted father tightly. She could see her adopted Uncle smirking in the background. He winked at her and walked away.

"It's good to have you back daddy."

"If Sherlock Holmes can fake his death, I can put blanks in my handguns."

Eleanor reached the ground floor of the building and stepped out the front door. A black Mercedes was parked out the front.

She sauntered over to the car. Eleanor leaned against the car door.

"Going to Baker Street?" she asked.

"Get in Miss Eleanor, we've been expecting you."

The voice wasn't the same as the corrupt guard from earlier.

"We?"

"Get in please. Don't make us force you."

"What about my luggage?"

"It's taken care of."

Eleanor opened the passenger door and sat down in the car. She shut the door and clicked on her seatbelt as the car rolled down the road.

"So who's taking me this time?"

"Mr. Holmes has requested an audience."

"What!"


	4. Chapter 4

Eleanor was shown inside an abandoned warehouse building. The car ride hadn't been particularly pleasant; the only other person in the back seat was constantly working on her mobile phone. She didn't say anything. It somewhat freaked Eleanor out.

As she walked, Eleanor could hear her footsteps echo as she walked across the room to man standing in the centre leaning on his umbrella. She was fairly sure who this was.

"How much did you tell her?"

"Not enough to endanger your brother... Any worse then you did of course."

"How quaint," Mycroft Holmes sneered.

"I'm not stupid. I didn't tell her everything and I changed a few facts."

"How much of the truth did you reveal?"

"I haven't seen her in six years and she tells me she's been working for Moriarty all this time. The only truth that I told was the fact that I met him not too long ago."

"I guess you can be trusted... to a point. You will not informed of everything that is happening, but enough to know when to run.

"A war is coming. A war that no one wants but everyone must fight in. You will have to decide which side you'll fight on; the angels or the daemons. Who will you fight with?"

"Just how many of your people are really angels?"

"More than them. So you will fight with us?"

"To a point."

"Close enough."

They stood, watching each other, waiting for any small sign of weakness.

"I have an appointment to keep, if you wouldn't mind," Eleanor said as she turned back towards the car.

"How far would you go for Sherlock Holmes?"

She looked back at one of the most important men in the world.

"Far enough."

She stepped into the car as it sped off, ready to make her interview with Doctor Watson.


	5. Chapter 5

"Now are you going to take me to Baker Street?"

"If you wish, also your luggage is in the boot."

Eleanor was sitting in the back of the car again, talking to the driver. The diver had speed off the moment she got into the car. The disconcerting girl on her phone was also there.

"How long until we get there?" she queried the chauffer.

"About half an hour away."

_Great, _she thought, _I may just make my interview an hour late. Bloody poms._

* * *

><p>Half an hour later Eleanor was yanking her luggage out of the boot and bolting up towards the door of 221B Baker Street. She thudded up against the door and began knocking.<p>

A little, old woman opened the door for her. Eleanor deduced that this was the famous Mrs. Hudson.

"You must be that Australian girl that was going to interview John. He's upstairs waiting. You're a bit late," the woman smiled as she spoke.

"Yes, thank-you, and I know," Eleanor breathed.

She stepped entered the building and thudded up the stairs, her luggage banging against the stairs. She slowed down to try and make less noise.

Eleanor peeked her head around the corner, into the apartment. She stepped inside.

"Hello?"

"Whu-what?"

A head snapped up from a chair facing away from the door. A little, blonde man poked his head over the back of the chair, blearily blinking his eyes.

"Wait, aren't you that Australian girl who wanted an interview?"

"Yes. I'm sorry I'm late. I got a bit... tied up."

"That's okay, things happen. Tea?"

"Why not."

As John Watson stood up to make the two of them some tea, Eleanor noticed that John quickly grabbed his stick as he arose. _Did Sherlock's 'suicide' make John's psychosomatic limp come back?_

She walked into the middle of the room and looked around. There was a second chair by the fireplace, but it looked like nobody had sat in that chair for a while, a thin layer of dust was developing over its fabric. _That's probably his chair. I shouldn't sit there unless told too, he might take offence._

John Watson returned to see the Australian girl standing slightly awkwardly while leaning on her luggage. Then he realised why she hadn't sat down.

"It's okay, you can sit there. He doesn't need that chair now," he looked on the verge of tears. Quickly, John Watson took two quick breaths in order to calm himself, smiled, and then placed the tea on the little table which was by his chair.

"So how much about him do you want to know?" John asked while pouring out the two cups of tea.

Eleanor took her filled cup then sat down.

"Milk? Sugar?"

"No for both."

John sat down then took his drink off the table. He took a sip.

"I've read on your blog about the case the two of you worked on when you first met. Why don't we start there, what other facts can you tell me about that case, then work forwards until the day he..."

"Died?"

"Yeah. I must say Dr. Watson, you're being very brave about this."

"Huh."

"Huh?"

"A man once told me that bravery is a far kinder word for stupidity."

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't mean..."

"No, it's okay. Only he could have known about something one person said to me two years ago. I'll start from the beginning."

"The best stories generally do."

Doctor Watson sighed.

"I'd been honourably discharged from military service in Afghanistan after being shot in the shoulder..."

* * *

><p>"...So that was the tale of my first adventure with Sherlock Holmes."<p>

"Wow... That was... Brilliant," Eleanor smiled at the words.

The she noticed the clock.

"GAH! IT'S 7 O'CLOCK!"

"Is it?"

"Yes, I'm supposed to have found a room at a hotel by now!"

"You didn't book one before?"

"I don't exactly get on the best terms with my parents..."

"Did you annoy them?"

"It was either my obsession with Sherlock Holmes or my resound belief that my best friend wasn't dead."

"Your friend died?"

"The police - everyone thought she had died. Everyone except me, that is. But..."

"But?"

"Things are wrong... They... She... How could she...?"

Eleanor sunk down into the chair.

She began to cry.

She hadn't cried in six years.


	6. Chapter 6

John Watson placed an arm around her shoulders comfortingly.

"Hey, hey, don't cry. If you need to, then stay here tonight."

Eleanor looked up at John Watson.

"No, no, I... I wouldn't want to intrude. You've been too kind already."

"I insist. Stay here."

"Okay then, I'll just move my stuff into 221C."

She stood up and started walking towards her luggage.

"No. I meant here, 221B."

"Whoa, let's not be too hasty here."

"I meant, take... His room."

"Oh... Are you sure?"

John Watson closed his eyes. He looked so very tired.

"Take it... please..."

Eleanor looked at the doctor. He had dark circles under his eyes and his face was rather haggard. He hadn't sleep well in a long time.

"Okay."

* * *

><p>She changed into her pyjamas. Sherlock's room had a certain... air about it. Aside from the chemical burns and stains decorating the walls, there was a slight odour of burning chemicals.<p>

It reminded her of home.

Eleanor sat down on his bed. The mattress wasn't overly spongy, but it wasn't that firm either. The sheets had been changed fairly recently, Mrs Hudson probably did that to stop too much dust from building up in his room.

Sliding between the cool sheets, Eleanor began to think about the events of the past few days. She had met Sherlock Holmes, travelled out of Australia for the first time, been kidnapped by her supposedly dead best friend, been kidnapped by Mycroft Holmes shortly afterwards, met Mrs Hudson, talked to Doctor John Watson, and been told to sleep in Sherlock Holmes's bedroom.

_I really do get around,_ she thought.

She was supposed to call her friend, but she was far too tired. _I'll call her tomorrow._

Eleanor grabbed her phone and sent a quick text to her friend.

_Sorry, can't call now. Tomorrow. –EW_

She waited for a few seconds.

_Thats ok – Avery_

Eleanor smiled as she turned off her phone.

Avery.

Since Neve disappeared, Avery always looked out for her. Avery wasn't her real name, but she had a thing for birds, so everyone called her Avery. She was a good friend, even if she didn't always do the smartest things.

Eleanor drifted off to sleep thinking about her friends.

* * *

><p>John Watson hadn't slept peacefully ever since Sherlock died.<p>

It was cruel of him to do this, but he just couldn't help himself. He had to hear to sounds of someone sleeping in that room again. He'd hate himself in the morning for it, but for one night.

Just one night.

That's all he wanted.

To sleep for one night.

He cried softly as he heard a gentle snoring emit from Sherlock's room.

He gently cried himself to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning Eleanor awoke to the sounds of talking outside. Actually, it was more like yelling. One voice was definitely John Watson's, but she couldn't identify the other... three.

She dragged herself out of bed and walked towards the sounds arguing, still in her pyjamas, of course.

"Would you all please STFU, I'm trying to sleep," she called out lazily.

Eleanor turned and began to walk away.

"STFU?"

Eleanor turned around sharply.

"Don't swear at me, mister what's-your-face."

A man with a surprisingly rat-like face and rather obviously died black hair black was looking at her with contempt.

_This must be Anderson._

"I'm going back to bed."

She turned and started walking away again.

"Who the heck is she?" a woman asked.

Eleanor turned around, again. Spinning circles this early in the morning was not so good for her temperament.

She looked over to see a darker skinned woman with teased black hair and a face that made her look like had been sucking on lemons.

_And Donovan, great. What a wonderful morning to wake up to, I'd like to go back to bed now._

"My name is Eleanor, and I'm a friend of doctor Watson's, now please keep the noise down while I sleep I'm still suffering the effects of jetlag."

She turned her back and began to walk determinedly out of the room. The effect was ruined when she stumbled and gave a massive yawn.

"John, why do you have a teenage girl staying in your flat?" the third voice asked. Given the identity of the first two unknowns, this was probably Detective Inspector Lestrade.

"She's a friend, she just got here from Australia and I let her stay here so she didn't have to find a hotel at night on her own," said John Watson, pleading his case to the police.

Eleanor poked her head around the corner.

"Just so you know, even if I had come from John's room, which is in a completely different direction to the one I'm staying in right now, I'm sixteen so anything that could have happened would be legal anyway."

"Ellie, that's creepy."

"Sorry, Doctor Watson, but it's true."

"Didn't you have a phone call you have to make?"

"Oh, yeah. Thanks for reminding me."

Eleanor hurried back to Sherlock's room.

She jumped on the bed and grabbed phone. She turned it on and noticed two missed calls. She played the first voice mail message that was left.

'_Ellie? Ellie, for god's sake answer the phone! You have to help me! I've been running for nearly an hour. They're everywhere. Oh god. They can hear me. Please Ellie, help me! AH-'_

Avery had called her last night.

_What happened to her?_

Quickly, Eleanor played the second voice mail.

'_Hello Eleanor, don't worry about your little friend. She's being very well taken care of. All you have to do to get your friend back is do everything we say. You'll know when we contact you, have a nice day.'_

The voice was definitely male, but not belonging to any man she had heard before.

She began to panic.

Then she remembered the police officers in the living room. She bolted out of the room, praying she could still save her friend.


	8. Chapter 8

Eleanor was pacing anxiously while she waited in Scotland Yard.

_Why can't they work any faster?_

It had been four hours since she had found the messages left on her phone and the police still had no idea about the man who called her. She sent a silent little prayer up towards the heavens and asked any god who would be willing to listen to help find her friend alive. She mentally emphasised _alive_.

* * *

><p>She was pacing inside a rather familiar warehouse. He was her only chance of finding Avery soon. She hoped that he came.<p>

An umbrella clicked against the concrete floor in the distance.

"Mycroft Holmes?"

"You want my help finding your kidnapped friend."

"Yes," it wasn't a question, but Eleanor answered it anyway.

"How exactly do you want me to help her?"

"Call your brother. He'll know what to do."

"My brother only calls when he needs something from me, not the other way around."

"Then give me his phone number. I saw him in Australia a few days ago, Avery was in Australia. He can help her, I'm sure of it."

"You do realise he is trying to keep a low profile-"

"So he doesn't get caught, I know. But I know about him, her kidnapper knows that I know about him, so they will be after Sherlock. This can work to his advantage."

"No."

"Please, just give me his number. That's all I need."

"No."

"Do you even know his phone number?"

"Yes."

"Then prove it."

"You can't trick me like that."

"Damn it. Worth a shot though."

"Indeed. If this is all you need of me then I'll be going."

"If you don't help me I'll change sides."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

Eleanor never turned to face him. She never saw the expression on his face, she didn't want to.

A phone slid across the floor to her.

The umbrella clicked away.

She picked up the phone. There was only one number in the contact list.

Eleanor walked out of the warehouse towards the Thames. She had to look an non-suspicious as possible, she knew who was watching.


	9. Chapter 9

_We need to talk – EW_

_About what? – SH_

_A friend of mine has been kidnapped. Most likely in association with what I know about you – EW_

_Why text me? – SH_

_You're the only one I can trust – EW_

...

_Where was she before? – SH_

_Adelaide, South Australia – EW_

_Name? – SH_

_Jessica 'Avery' Mallard – EW_

_Did the kidnapper call you? – SH_

_Yes – EW_

_Summary? – SH_

_I have to do everything they say when they contact me or she dies – EW_

_Have they contacted you again? – SH_

_Not yet – EW_

_You think your friend is still alive? – SH_

...

_Yes – EW_

...

_I'll look into it. Keep me up to date on details – SH_

_Thank you – EW_

_Don't tell him – SH_

_I haven't – EW_

_Good. I can trust you - SH_


	10. Chapter 10

Avery Mallard didn't know where she was. She had been kidnapped for about 3 days now. She was starting to panic.

_What if Ellie can't save me? What if she's too late and they only find my beautiful corpse lying a ditch covered by __**BUGS**__, yuck. Bugs are disgusting._

_Please Ellie, please. You have to find me._

"Hello there Birdy, you going to warble for us today or are we going to have to force it out of you again?"

Avery shied away from the man, but his long, dirt-encrusted fingers reached through the bars of her cage and grabbed her collar. He chuckled.

"You have to do better than that Birdy. Come on, the boss wants us to record this one."

He opened her cage and hauled a screaming Avery out and into a hessian bag.

* * *

><p>She had been sending him information for the last three days. He knew who was behind this, but he couldn't show himself quite yet. He needed more time.<p>

But each passing day that girl was being tortured even further. He would have to act soon, before they started mutilating her.

Sherlock Holmes was sitting in a little rented out room. It wasn't a particularly nice room; it was covered in mould and the building was laden with termites, but it sufficed.

He needed one more thing, and he knew who could get it for him.

* * *

><p>He looked down at his phone. Sherlock had sent him another text. Since he had faked his death, Sherlock was far more inclined to text him than he had done for his entire life.<p>

_Where is it? – SH_

_Typical, no pleasantries, just straight to the point_, Mycroft thought.

_A cache. Observation Tower, Mt. Lofty – MH_

_Anything more specific? – SH_

_That would be too easy – MH_

_Damn you – SH_

_You never got anywhere with me telling you all the answers brother – MH_

_Fine – SH_

* * *

><p>She was worried. It had been three days and Sherlock hadn't rescued Avery yet.<p>

A small part of her brain almost doubted his ability.

Granted, it was a very small part of her brain.

_Anything could be happening to her. Please Sherlock, help her. I beg you._

* * *

><p>Neve sat, wrapped up warmly in the arms of her wonderful boyfriend. It was probably cruel how she was torturing Eleanor, but it was for the best really.<p>

_Ellie needs to learn when to stay out of other people's business._

She cuddled up Sebastian while he laced his fingers through hers and kissed the top of her head.

"Sixteen now, huh?"

"So it seems."

"Guess that means you're legal now."

Neve gave Sebastian a sly look.

"I suppose it does."

"So... does that mean..."

"No. You still don't."

"Aww. Spoil-sport."

Sebastian nuzzled her neck.

I was definitely cruel what she was doing to Ellie, still she got to see that little twerp Avery being forced to sing her favourite songs.

_I suppose there is always a bonus in this job._

* * *

><p>John Watson made them both tea.<p>

He knew something was plaguing Eleanor's mind, but he wasn't sure what.

_It must have something to do with that missing friend of hers. I hope they find her soon, Ellie looks terrible with the way she's worrying all the time._

He placed the tea down on the table and poured them both a cup.

He saw the edge of Eleanor's wrists as her sleeves slid up while she reached for her cup.

He couldn't ignore the scars he saw there.


	11. Chapter 11

_I've got the cache – SH_

_Three hours after I told you where it was – MH_

_Had to tag along with a group of teenagers and a couple of adults geo-caching – SH_

_You still should have found it sooner – MH_

_They knew where it was and they kept having to stop for the slower members of their group – SH_

_Just hurry up – MH_

_I was about to go do it – SH_

_Good for you – MH_

He turned off his phone. He didn't want to continue this conversation. Sherlock always bothered him at the most inconvenient times; he was only half-way through the newspaper's crossword puzzle. Granted, he had started ten seconds before his little brother began texting him.

* * *

><p>Avery was dumped unceremoniously on the stage. The bird costume they forced her into was itching in all the wrong places and messed up her hair so much it was almost a nest. <em>The eye make-up is the worst<em>, she thought, _eye shadow should not go above a girl's eyebrows and below her cheek bones._

She was standing in front of a microphone on a tiny little stage, a single spot-light glaring down at her. She squinted her eyes and looked into the audience. She could barely see a person and a laptop, the laptop probably had Skype open.

The music began to play from the speakers she could never see.

She had tried not singing before, but that hadn't gone so well for her. She was positive there would be a scar on her back from the bull whip.

She started to sing.

* * *

><p>She was sitting in Sherlock's room, breathing heavily.<p>

_Why is he taking so long?_

She brought the metal up to her wrist.

_He should have saved her by now._

She pressed the cool metal against her warm skin.

_If only I had waited..._

She pulled her hand down, quickly.

_If I hadn't hurried over to England..._

Blood started to pool on her wrist.

_I could have been there to help her..._

She looked at the deep red trickling down her arm.

_But I'm sitting here, instead..._

She placed the razor blade on the table and grabbed some gauze the cover the wound.

_Why doesn't he save her?_

* * *

><p>Skype was open on her laptop. Avery was quite the little singer, when she wasn't being whipped for missing a note.<p>

_*CRACK*_

"You owe me five quid," Neve said to Sebastian with a smirk.

"Damn, I thought she would make the note. She screams that note regularly."

Sebastian Moran unwound his arms from Neve and reached for his wallet.

"Wait, what? Where's my-"

"Looking for this?"

Neve was holding Sebastian's wallet between her index and middle fingers.

"I'm guessing you already took fifty quid."

"Only twenty-five, this time."

"Perhaps I should start keeping my wallet in my boxers?"

"Just 'cause you want me to go there."

"Naturally."

Sebastian held his wallet in his hands while he grabbed Neve Moriarty and plonked his chin on her head.

Avery was getting another crack of the whip.

_She really should stop panicking; it throws her voice right out_, thought Neve.

* * *

><p><em>Where did she keep getting razor blades from?<em> John Watson thought as he searched through the flat for the twentieth time that day.

He knew she was cutting herself, but he didn't know how to stop her.

Why did he always do this? He always managed to share a flat with someone mentally unstable. At least he was used to Sherlock's madness.

He couldn't understand her. On the first night he had met her, she had burst into tears for some strange reason. Her friend had been kidnapped, but it was almost like she was taking it too personally.

John was missing something, he was sure of it.

* * *

><p>Sherlock was ready now. He had the package he needed in order to get in and save Avery for Eleanor. He liked Eleanor, she reminded him of John; not as good as him, but trying hard to impress. He held a level of respect for her.<p>

She also promised not to tell John about him.

He felt he could trust her, to a point of course.

He would never trust anyone to the same level he trusted John and Mrs Hudson, but she was close. He trusted her more than Lestrade at least.

Sherlock Holmes was wearing an Australia Post delivery uniform and was walking up the stairs to the little house in Elizabeth.

He knocked.

"Package," he called towards the house.

A man with a haggard face and dirty fingers nails answered the door.

"What?"

"Package for you."

"What is it?"

"I just deliver the packages, sir, I don't open them up and rummage around with the contents."

The haggard man just harrumphed.

"Sign here please, sir."

The man went to sign on the clipboard the Sherlock held, but he didn't make it.

Sherlock had clubbed him over the head with a gun and walked inside the house.


	12. Chapter 12

They were running.

She didn't know who this man was, but he had saved her.

He was tall, with a mop of dark hair and the most peculiar quicksilver eyes. He sounded British.

She wasn't sure if it was the running that was making her heart beat double time or something else.

She was starting to think it might be something else.

He had broken into the building about two hours earlier and had shot the laptop. Then he grabbed her and they started running.

If she could run with him, she didn't really mind running for the rest of her life.

* * *

><p>She was about to go for the other wrist when the special phone bleeped.<p>

Her hand shot out for the phone.

_Got her. We're running – SH_

A wave of relief crashed over her as she absorbed his words. Avery was alive. Sherlock had rescued her. _Thank any and all gods out there._

_Get her to the police, they will look after her – EW_

_Was already going – SH_

_By the gods, _she thought,_ he really is brilliant._

_Thank you – EW_

_Just stand up to your promise – SH_

_Of course – EW_

She placed the phone down and lay back on the bed. She closed her eyes and began to smile while she began to leak tears out of her eyes.

Avery was safe.

Now she can stop punishing herself for being a terrible friend.

* * *

><p>Lestrade received a call from the South Australian Metropolitan Police. Jessica Mallard had been left at the police station for them. Her parents had been called first, now Lestrade had been called so that he could inform the girl's friend who was staying in London about the recent development.<p>

Lestrade finished up with the call and phoned John Watson immediately.

"Avery was found?"

"Less than ten minutes ago."

"I'll tell Ellie. Thank you, Greg. Really, thank you."

"It's okay John, the Australian's did their best and they found her alive."

The phone clicked off.

John leaned against his chair. _Hopefully Ellie will stop cutting herself now_, he thought to himself as he began to walk confidently towards Sherlock's room.

* * *

><p>The signal had suddenly cut out of the Skype video. Neve Moriarty sat bolt upright, dislodging her boyfriend in the process.<p>

"DAD, WE'VE GOT A PROBLEM!"

* * *

><p>He had left the girl out the front of the police station. It was best he didn't go with her. They would start asking questions, questions he shouldn't answer.<p>

He texted Eleanor, sure that she would need to know of what happened immediately.

He strolled over to a shopping complex. He sat down on bench outside the building and looked at himself. Staying in Australia for so long was making him get a tan.

He wished he could go back to England, but his job wasn't finished yet. Not quite yet.

He needed a little more time.


	13. Chapter 13

She told the police everything, about how she was kidnapped and about the really cute guy with the British accent who rescued her.

"Is he one of you guys?"

"No, we don't have anyone from England working in this station," the Chief was scowling at her.

"Shame... He was... good..."

"Ms Mallard if you would please stop fantasising and start filling out the witness statement."

"Oh, right, sorry."

* * *

><p>John quietly knocked on the door. He knew that teenage girls sometimes needed... to be alone. He carefully opened the door.<p>

"Ellie?" he called softly as he entered.

He saw her lying on the bed. He hurried over to her and checked her pulse.

Barely there.

Her wrist was still slightly bloody. He quickly checked if she was breathing.

She was.

John shook her shoulder.

"Ellie? Ellie, wake up. I have to talk to you."

John watched as her eyes fluttered and she mumbled something about being a good friend after all.

He shook her shoulder again.

"Ellie, wake up."

Eleanor rolled over and smacked her head into John's hand. She snapped awake and jumped back.

"GAH! What the hell Doctor Watson! You scared me!"

He gave her a soft smile and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Ellie, there's something I have to tell you."

"What? It's not bad news is it?"

"No, no, it's not bad news, it's good news. Your friend, Avery, has been found."

She started at John Watson, her jaw dropped open. She was good at feigning shock. Slowly, she spread a smile across her face and leaned back.

She threw her head back and began to laugh and cry at the same time. John Watson leaned over and hugged her.

Then he stood up and walked out of the room.

The moment he shut the door she stopped smiling and crying but kept making the sounds.

_I promised..._

* * *

><p>"Detective Inspector Lestrade speaking."<p>

"Lestrade, we want to talk to you about the witness statement of one Jessica Mallard."

"What's the problem?"

"She keeps talking about this man with the pale skin and British accent that 'rescued' her. Would you happen to know anything about that?"

"British?"

"Yes, she said that the man spoke with a British accent."

"How did she describe him?"

"Tall, dark hair, cheekbones, 'nice butt', 'hot', annoying typical teenage girl coos as men they find attractive."

"I can't think of anyone who works here like that in Australia at the moment."

"She also said that the man told her that a friend of hers asked him to 'rescue' her."

"What friend?"

"Don't know. He didn't tell her."

"Did she say what the man was like, his personality?"

"She said he was a crack shot with a gun, and he stated every little detail about what happened to just by taking a quick look at her."

"What! Say that last part again."

"He stated every little detail about what happened to her just by taking a quick look at her."

...

"Lestrade are you still there?"

"Are you sure about her statement?"

"Positive. Lestrade, what is it? Who was that man?"

"...Someone who jumped off a building and died six months ago."

"What?"

"I need to talk to someone, call back us back when you have any new information."

* * *

><p>She heard someone knocking on the door downstairs, someone knocking frantically. The door opened and she heard someone thundering up the stairs, bursting through the door into the landing.<p>

"Where's Eleanor?" it sounded like Lestrade.

"She's in his room."

Eleanor walked over to the door and opened it as the inspector marched over to the room.

The two looked at each other.

"I need to talk to you."

"About what?"

"About your _friends_, one in particular."

She looked at him, analysed his expression.

Then she understood.

"Not here."

Lestrade looked at John, casually watching the TV. A bit too casually, really. He noticed them looking and turned the TV up.

"You're coming with me. Now."

* * *

><p>They were sitting in Speedy's cafe. Lestrade had a coffee while Eleanor had a hot chocolate. They weren't drinking any.<p>

"How long have you known?"

"About what?" she looked at Lestrade innocently at this question.

He looked up from his cup at her. Something in his face, behind his tired eyes looked pained.

"How long have you known he was alive?"

She turned her head to look out the window to see the cars whizzing by.

"A week. I met him just before I left Australia."

Lestrade gazed out the window as well.

"How did you manage to contact him?"

"Mycroft gave me his new number."

He sighed and took a sip from his cup.

"He was a prick, a complete and utter prick, but there have been so many times where I wish he was here. "

Eleanor took a long, slow drink from her cup.

"He made me promise something that I now want you to promise."

"What?"

She looked straight at him, staring straight into his eyes.

"Don't tell him."

* * *

><p>He was lying down in the little rented out room again. He was so bored he had started drawing pictures on the ceiling with his mind, connecting together the mould spots. His phone began buzzing.<p>

_Turns out Avery told the cops about you who, in turn, told Lestrade, who then made the connection that you're alive. I made him promise – EW_

_I guess Lestrade has had to work without me – SH_

_He called you a prick and says he misses you. There are cases in which he wished you were still there – EW_

_How sentimental – SH_

_I didn't give him your number. If he needs you he'll have to go through me – EW_

_Fair enough – SH_

_He misses you – EW_

_I know John does – SH_

_He let me stay in your room. He actually called it "Sherlock's Room" – EW_

_That would be John. He grows so attached to things – SH_

_Are you sure he shouldn't know? – EW_

_It's better this way – SH_

_If you're sure – EW_

He didn't reply. He wasn't sure.

* * *

><p>John heard Eleanor wheeling her luggage from Sherlock's room.<p>

"Going so soon?" John asked her. He didn't really want her to go; there was something about her that reminded him of Sherlock.

"Yeah, I should be getting back, I've got family and a distressed friend to deal with," she said with a little smile. She didn't really want to leave, but she had to.

"It was good to meet you," John came up to her and shook her hand.

"It was good to meet you too Doctor Watson."

She smiled and started walking towards the door. She paused.

John noticed.

"Is there something wrong?"

Eleanor sighed. She promised, but...

_What do I do?_


	14. Chapter 14

_Should I tell him?_

_I promised, but..._

_He's in so much pain..._

_Why is this so hard?_

Her phone buzzed. She checked it quickly.

_Don't tell him outright. If he's as smart as my brother thinks, he'll make the assumption – MH_

Eleanor stood there, just staring at the text. Mycroft was ordering her to tell him?

_But Sherlock trusts me..._

_Would this break the promise?_

_What do I do?_


	15. 15  Version 2

_What do I do?_

She thought about Sherlock Holmes, about the man who saved her friend's life, her hero. She thought about all the events that had lead up to this moment; coming to England, being kidnapped, finding Neve, meeting Mycroft Holmes, meeting John Watson, Avery going missing, Sherlock rescuing her.

She made her decision.

"John... Before I came here... There was... something, something I can't really explain... I just..."

"What do you mean Ellie?"

She looked at John Watson for a moment, and then smiled.

"Don't lose hope, Doctor John Watson. An amazing, wonderful, stupid, impossible, miracle is coming your way. You can't lose hope until then."

With that smile plastered on her face, she turned and trundled her luggage out of 221B Baker Street.

She caught a cab and drove to Heathrow airport where she got on the plane and returned to Australia.

* * *

><p>She wandered through Adelaide airport, looking at all the different brightly coloured shops and travellers. She loathed them all.<p>

Eleanor found the correct luggage conveyor belt and hauled her stuff from it. She pulled up the handles and began to trundle away towards the exit.

* * *

><p>She didn't really want to go home, so she had her taxi pull up to her "office".<p>

It wasn't really much of an office, there was no big, fancy, concrete building with glass windows all up the sides with people in business suits streaming in and out. This was a little shack of a house with two rooms; a main room and a bed room. There wasn't much inside; a bed, an esky, various portable power supplies, a ton of paperwork she had collected (all her notes about Sherlock Holmes), and a man.

She didn't realise there was a man inside until she entered.

He was sitting on her esky. There was no chair, so she always used the esky. She had reinforced it a long time ago, so it could hold up human weight.

The man was holding a phone. Eleanor couldn't see much, but she could see a text message open.

"Hello?" she ventured.

"Eleanor," it was Sherlock Holmes. Her hero, her idol was sitting on her esky in her office.

"Is there a problem Sherlock?"

"Mycroft texted me."

"So I see."

"He told me about the final conversation you had with John."

"Ah..."

"You told him."

"Sort of..."

"You hinted that I was alive."

"Kind of..."

The two were silent for a while, just staring at each other.

"Are you angry with me Sherlock?"

"No... You fulfilled your promise. Thank you. If he really is as smart as I tried to help him be..."

"...Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you here?"

"I needed to see you."

"Why did you need to see me?"

"I want your help with something."

"Why me?"

"Because I know I can trust you, I don't have John here, and I need someone who is either female or makes a good impression of one."

"Uh... what?"


End file.
